


Trapped

by ObsidianCrow



Series: Kirk/Khan Bloodbond!verse [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Brain Damage, Gen, Hope, Pike POV, Possibly OOC, emotional torture, not a scientist or doctor or psychologist sorry, tie-in with my other story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:19:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianCrow/pseuds/ObsidianCrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus brings Pike back from the dead so Pike can realize just how badly he's lost. He was a bit too late, though. Pike has slight brain damage. Luckily it isn't permanent, so Marcus makes plans that will allow Pike to bear witness to how badly things fall apart.<br/>---<br/>First chapter can stand alone. Following chapters require knowledge of my Yours/Mine story to make sense, and will have SPOILERS for my Yours/Mine story if you aren't caught up. </p>
<p>Yours/Mine story from Pike's pov, basically. It provides insight to points of the plot that won't be fully explained in my other story, though you don't need to read this to understand my other story. It is "canon" to my other fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Trek. 
> 
> Sorry if I've got facts about brain damage wrong. I only lightly researched it before writing this.

 

Pike groaned, trying to pry his eyes open with a force of will. They instantly burned, forcing themselves back shut. Judging from his position, he was laying on something hard. The cold seeping into his skin through thin clothes suggested the 'something' was made of metal, and that his clothes had been changed. He lifted a hand to his face, grunting when he somehow ended up smacking himself. Maybe he had drank too much. He hadn't gotten drunk in months, though.

 

“I see you're alive.”

 

Pike grimaced at the voice, trying to distinguish it. “Marcus?” The name came out as a jumble of random sounds. His eyes finally opened. It didn't help- he was staring up at a plain white ceiling. He braced himself against the bed to push himself up, arms giving out on him. He caught a glimpse of Marcus' face, confirming his guess.

 

“I thought I may have gotten to you too late. All Spock's fault, of course. If he hadn't wasted precious moments worrying over your dying form, I could have stolen you away sooner.”

 

He gasped for breath, heart pounding against his ribcage. The words entered his ears, but made no sense. Spock? Something about dying? Did Spock die? Footsteps. Marcus was stepping closer. Pike didn't want the man closer, but could do little more than squirm in place. The sight of the auburn haired man did nothing to calm him. Those eyes... they were full of disdain.

 

“If you had just agreed to join my project, this could all have been avoided.”

 

Words. Why couldn't he understand them? The man was speaking clearly, but the meaning just wasn't registering. How had Pike even gotten here? The last thing he remembered was telling Jim Kirk of his position as Pike's first officer. The boy was too talented to be sent back to the academy. Had something happened after that?

 

“...I suppose I'll have to send someone in to judge your cognitive state. I hadn't thought you had sustained any debilitating brain damage. I need you cognizant if I'm going to torture you.”

 

Torture. He was sure he had heard that word. Pike floundered for words, finally managing to force out, “Why?” It was a useless attempt. The resulting answer was as unintelligible as everything else had been.

 

“Why?” A laugh. “You threatened to out me when I asked you to join me. Now you get to watch as the war commences. Watch as your precious _Jim_ becomes a murderer, starts a war, and dies to avenge you. Watch as a man genetically engineered to be intelligent just keeps doing what I want him to do. Thinking it's his own idea, that he's actually harming me. He was really made to be used, I can tell you that much.”

 

The expression on Marcus' face told Pike that he should be listening. Told him that he needed to hear this. No amount of effort, however, could give meaning to the strings of syllables and sounds.

 

Marcus turned and made for the door. Pike managed to push himself to his feet, but his movements were like that of a drunken man: wobbly and uncoordinated. He ultimately ended up tripping and crashing into the ground, legs aching where bruises were surely forming.

 

“I wonder how long I'll have to wait for Jim to come running and begging for a chance at revenge. I'd bet less than 24 hours. Men are so predictable.” With those emitted sounds, Marcus walked through a sliding white door.

 

Pike was suddenly very alone.

~

 

By the time a person entered the room, Pike had analyzed every corner of the space. It was cubic, and about 10x10x10. There was a metal slab connected to the floor, upon which he had awoken on. He supposed it was meant to be a bed. The tile floors were more comfortable. A toilet was in the corner, as well as a sink with soap kindly provided.

 

His head began to hurt when he spent too long trying to put things together, but he tried anyway. There had been an explosion at Section 31. He had just read over the papers on it before telling Kirk to join him in the regulation-dictated meeting. Had he ever actually _gone_ to the meeting?

 

The person, presumably a nurse, was a man in his mid 30's. He propped Pike up against the wall, shining things into his eyes. A tricorder was then waved over his head.

 

A series of strange tests on a PADD were given to him. Things like tracing his finger from the beginning of an easy maze to the end of it. His finger kept slipping around, and his focus had become dearly departed. He scowled at the thing, shoving it away.

 

He wondered where his usual patience had gone. It was probably camping out with his ability to understand words. The man left.

 

~

 

Pike guessed a few days had passed. There was a basic schedule. He'd be handfed, as his failed coordination had left him tossing the food all over himself and the floor. A few hours later he'd be fed again. That nurse would then enter with a bag in his hands and continue with tests, as well as basic activities. Pike supposed they were meant to help him regain lost cognitive function, though if that was so they were failing miserably. He'd be fed half an hour after that, and then he'd be left alone for what felt like eight or nine hours.

 

He wasn't sure, but he thought the nurse's name started with Nova. Apparently written words processed easier than spoken words, though his ability to remember them was a bit faulty.

 

The schedule was different today. After 'breakfast', Marcus made an appearance. “Novakovich's scans say you should be able to heal from this, so long as we continue to give you something to stimulate your mind. They also have an experimental treatment. Not painful, unfortunately. Just a substance we'll be mixing into your food. In any case, you'll be aware enough to understand how completely you have failed Kirk.”

 

He couldn't interpret the words, but the tone seemed cruel. Pike flinched as a hand mockingly patted his head.

 

~

 

“ _Kirk,” Pike chided._ _He sat at_ Starfleet headquarters, all other Captains and first officers gathered around. Leave it to Jim to draw attention to himself right off the bat. After breaking the Prime Directive, his best bet was to stay off the radar.

 

“Come on, if you have something to say, say it,” Admiral Marcus was saying, from across the circular table.

 

It was all the encouragement Jim needed. “Isn't it strange? Why blow up the archives? It was a library.”

 

Pike sighed. Now Kirk was asking questions he wasn't authorized to know the answers to.

 

“It isn't just a library,” said Marcus, blue eyes sparkling through polluted depths. “It's where it all began.”

 

Before anyone could respond, there was a loud, harsh crash, everyone getting up and pushing each other to get out of the way of flying glass. Out of the way of the constant barrage of shots.

 

Pike was rooted in place. With an effort, Pike managed to look out the window. In a jumpship, raining fire over the meeting room, was a man. Pike squinted, trying to make out the person's face through the storm of shots. His heart nearly stopped.

 

It was Admiral Marcus.

 

~

 

Pike woke with a deep, gasping breath, laying in a puddle of cold sweat upon the tile floor. He ran a hand over his face, trying to make sense of what he had dreamt.

 

“Excuse me,” a voice was saying. It was Nova.

 

Pike blinked. It almost made sense. _Almost_. His brain had grasped it, given him a taste of the definition, and then tossed it away. It was like he had the meaning dancing around the back of his mind, refusing to push forward to where he could acknowledge it. He grit his teeth in frustration. He was much more short tempered lately.

 

“You're progressing,” said Nova, and while the words didn't register, the gentle smile did.

 

Something good had happened. With a start, Pike realized this wasn't a time to despair. He was... the word _progressing_ came to mind. Yes. There was hope. If he could retrieve his mind, he could think his way out of this situation.

 

~

 

The next time Marcus visited, Pike could hold onto simple sentences and almost make sense of long ones. The parts of his brain that made sense of auditory input were starting to work again. His head hurt if he spent too long trying to understand Novako's words, but each day he would progress a bit more.

 

Marcus must have figured this out from Novako's reports. “I'm here to inform you of... Right, you understand simple sentences.” Marcus paused, rubbing his chin in thought. His used-dish-water eyes sharpened. “I'm leaving. Starting a Klingon War.” He paused between each sentence, allowing Pike time to process the words, waiting until Pike gave a slight incline of his head to continue. “Kirk will die.”

 

Pike was at his feet in a second, with only the slightest bit of disorientation. “No.”

 

Marcus raised a brow. “No?”

 

With a great effort Pike slowly got out, “Don't involve Kirk.” His words were a bit jumbled, but Marcus seemed to understand them all the same.

 

Marcus laughed. “And what exactly are you going to do to stop me, from your place locked up underground, out of sight and out of mind?”

 

That, Pike didn't understand. Too much at once. He had a feeling of what the words could be, though.

 

Marcus must have realized he had gone beyond Pike's current mental level, because he went back to short sentences with long pauses between them. “You're too weak. Listen. This is important.”

 

Pike could feel the anger welling in his chest, the emotion muddling his mind and impairing any regained voice-comprehending abilities. He took a few deep breaths, willing his mind clear. He had to listen. Whatever Marcus was saying, Pike needed to hear.

 

“Kirk went to Kronos. His ship will die. Klingons will find him. War will start.”

 

Pike could feel his eyes widening, unsure if he even believed what he was hearing. The more Marcus said, the more fabricated it all sounded.

 

“I'll lead Starfleet. Meanwhile...” The pollution floating over the blue depths snuffed out any glint in the man's eyes. “...you're going to Tantalus V. You'll never be found, Chris _Peterson_. Ensign gone crazy. I have a friend there. Dr. Adams. You'll never get out.”

 

Too much. Too much at once. Everything he thought he heard, he couldn't be sure of. No. “This won't work,” Pike said, but the emotion left his words as jumbled as on his first day locked up here. Perhaps he could escape on the way over? Maybe someone would see him? _Save_ him? Someone had to have a conscience. 

 

“You'll go tomorrow. Enjoy your new life.” With a smirk, he added, "Maybe I'll visit you. I'll show you a video of Kirk's funeral."

 

~

 

Pike had no clue of what had happened to Marcus. He had been in this same, windowless room for an undetermined amount of time. After being tranquilized who-knows-how-long ago, he had awoken here. It felt like years, though the fact he still had hope told him less time had to have passed. Food and water would be pressed through a little slot. He hadn't even once caught a glimpse of any of the personnel here.

 

They had given him an electronic book reader. That was more than Marcus had ever given Pike. 

 

He hadn't even seen Dr. Adams once. He doubted it really was Dr. Adams that ran this place. That man was known for turning prisons into a peaceful, rehabilitative environment; not placing people in solitary isolation.

 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. It was muffled through the door, but... He knew that voice. It was James T. Kirk. He was at the metal door in an instant, fists banging and voice calling out. “ _Jim_!” he screamed. “James Kirk!” The room was one-way soundproofed, he knew, but he hoped for a miracle. He'd be willing to pray to the god so few believed in just to have proof that _Jim_ was alive. That Marcus had failed. He could endure an eternity of isolation, if only he knew that James T. Kirk was alive.

 

But what if Jim was actually a prisoner here, too? What if Marcus had won, and instead of letting Jim die, he put Jim in Tantalus V?

 

The hope of moments before was changed into desperate, horrible panic. _No_. No. He had to be wrong. Jim couldn't be caught.

 

Another voice... two voices... If only he could understand them. They were stopped outside his door. One was definitely Jim. The other was unfamiliar, deep and surrounding. Even through the door, he could hear the power in it. Feel it. Desperately, he resumed screaming out Kirk's name, hoping against all logic in the universe that he would be heard.

 

A third voice joined in. The voices were disappearing down the hall. _No_. He collapsed against the door, sliding down and resting his face against the cold metal. “Jim,” he gasped, voice raw from screaming. “I hope to god you're alright.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pike doesn't know what to believe. It seems he won't have to be guessing for long, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some parts will be familiar from my Yours/Mine story, other sections are rewritten to be from Pike's POV, and lots of sections are behind-the-scenes.

Pike stared at the tray of food, contemplating if it was worth the effort of eating it. Contemplating if staying alive meant anything if the rest of his life would be spent locked away here.

But then he thought back to Marcus, his cruel, twisted features forever imprinted in Pike's mind. Thought of Kirk, young and potential packed, likely killed at Marcus' hands. He picked up the food, taking a bite. If there was even a chance of escape, a chance of getting out and fixing the corrupt world outside, he couldn't waste it. Marcus had won for now, but he would falter eventually.

Pike froze at the sound of a lock clicking out of place. He stared up at the door as it began to swing open. Looked down at his food, wondering if it had hallucinogens in it.

“Pike,” said an unpleasantly familiar voice.

“No-Novakovich?” The lanky brunette couldn't look more real, but Pike still had trouble believing his eyes. The man knelt down before him, and Pike tried to move away from the hypo aimed at his arm. The needle slipped into his skin.

~

Pike grimaced at the fuzzy feeling of drugs clouding his head, opening his eyes. From what he could tell, he was on the floor of a transit-ship. He vaguely remembered seeing someone familiar. Then, nothing. He figured that was when he had been drugged.

At the control console was... He took a sharp breath, panic filling him as he realized who he was with. It was E. Novakovich, the man who had monitored him while he was under Marcus' control. So Marcus had won after all. Which meant Kirk was...

"You're awake. How are you feeling?" Novakovich mocked.

Pike gave him his best disoriented-glare. "What does Marcus want with me?" His voice came out weak and raspy from disuse.

Obviously-fake concern came over Novakovich's face. "Pike, Marcus is dead."

A trick. He didn't dare to hope. Not when he was faced with _this_ man. Did he even want to know what had become of Kirk? He turned away from the man. He'd wait until he had his strength back, and then... then, what?

~

"Where are we?" Pike asked, peering outside. The rocky landscape provided no clues.

"Tantalus VII. We'll be taking a ship to Sector 001 in a few days. My... comrades... are currently in the Sol System," Novakovich informed, offering Pike a hand up.

Pike by no means was going to accept Ethan's help. He got to his feet. Or, tried to, only to lose his balance. To Pike's chagrin, Ethan caught him.

"For now, I need you to trust me. I'll prove whatever you need me to when we find a place to spend the next couple of nights."

Pike wasn't convinced, but he allowed Ethan to guide him from the ship. He had a lot to learn before he could try fixing things. He forced out his most burning question; the one he almost didn't want to ask, in fear of the answer: "What happened to Kirk?"

"He's on a five year mission as captain of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_."

Pike stopped walking, staring at the man. He wondered what cruel psychological game Novakovich was playing now.

"Pike?" The psychologist had the gall to look confused.

"I don't believe you." Despite Pike's best efforts, his voice shook.

"I'll give you web access when we find a place. You can learn whatever you want, without having to ask me." It was a fair compromise. Once they exited the strangely-deserted hangar, it was Novakovich who paused their walking. “Let's return to the ship."

Pike could make no argument. The houses lining the streets were crumbled and burnt. Humanoid corpses and glass littered the blood-stained streets. Was this, too, a result of Marcus' actions? Novakovich seemed generally surprised by the sight.

As they turned around, Pike forcing his tired body to move faster than it should, they were met with an equally disturbing sight.

Their ship was gone.

~~

 

Pike was inclined to believe Ethan hadn't planned this. Their captor, a lean man with empty brown eyes, was treating them both with equal roughness. Pike was shoved into a cave, crashing to the ground. He managed to reduce his cry of pain to a mere grunt, the tile only marginally better than the rocks he had expected to see in the cave. Pike was yanked up by the back of shirt, the breath rushing out of him as their captor forced him up.

The contents of the cave were more worrying than the emotionless, inhumanly strong man that had taken them there. Two shiny silver tables held the strapped bodies of what might have once been humans. Machines were hooked up to the people, who were possibly still alive. A tall woman stood over one of the bodies, poking it with a metal device.

"Ms. Regis," said the man that had caught them.

The woman immediately looked up, her irises the same black as her pupils. A betazoid, if he remembered correctly.

"Who are they?" asked Regis, words thick with suspicion. When the man remained silent, Regis said, "Matthew, answer me. Who are they?"

"I am unsure," said the-newly-dubbed Matthew. "They came by ship, and were wandering the rubble. After moving the ship, I decided to bring them to you."

"Alright. Give them a cell."

The room they were forced into was lined with clear-walled cells. Bloody, unconscious forms were caged inside. Matthew shoved Pike and Ethan into an empty cell, then left.

Pike settled heavily on the dusty floor, Ethan sitting down beside him. Beaten captives. People being tortured. It sounded similar to the plots Marcus had wanted to drag Pike into. "You're sure Marcus is dead?"

"Yes. I saw the footage of him being killed," Ethan confirmed.

Somehow, that didn't bring him the hope he had expected. He was too drained for hope. And, even dead, it seemed Marcus had won.

"Your misery is delicious." The woman from earlier, Regis, leered at them through the glass.

"You're a Betazoid. How can you torture people?" asked Ethan.

"You mean because of my telepathic and empathic abilities?" She bared her yellowed teeth in a mockery of a smile. "I _enjoy_ the pain I feel from others, especially when I'm the cause of it. But we have more important matters to discuss." She held up a PADD. Pike didn't have the energy to focus on the blurry images. Regis asked, "Who are these people?"

"I... can't tell," Novakovich said, nervously.

"I'm sure torture will loosen your tongue," was the harsh response.

"No, I mean I don't know. I'd tell you if I knew," Ethan quickly clarified. "It's really blurry."

"You expect me to believe that after months of no one coming to the surface, two unrelated groups came down? Within an hour of each other?"

"There's someone else on the planet?"

Regis stepped back from the cage, frowning. "You're surprised? I suppose you have nothing to do with my associate's sudden lack of response, either."

People, on the planet. Unexpected people. It just might be possible that Pike wouldn't be spending the rest of his life in captivity.

He didn't know how long he sat there; time passed differently for him now. Untraceable, with no clocks or windows seeming to ever be provided. His internal clock had long since stopped working. But it felt like only seconds before shouts and crashes flooded through the door locking them in. Exhausted, he tried to focus on something else. He didn't want to imagine the torture that was likely occurring.

The door to the mass room of cells swung open. Pike still didn't look, not wanting to see the tortured person being shoved into a cell.

“ _Pike_?”

His head shot up. A ghost looked down at him, the big blue eyes welling with tears. “Oh my god, _Pike_. You're- you're alive?”

It was Jim. It had to be him. His mind couldn't be cruel enough to fabricate this.

 

~

Pike tried to cling to consciousness, but knowing Jim was alive, knowing that Jim was safe, caused relief to wash over him, and as he was set onto a sickbay bed, his body shut down to retrieve some much needed rest.

When he opened his eyes, he was looking into a vaguely-familiar face. He knew this man... somehow. A name came to mind. Harrison. He couldn't think of why that was significant. It felt like a name from another life, from when the world had been simple.

Then another man, almost recognizable, was on Pike's other side.

"How're you feeling, Admiral?" the man asked.

Pike scrutinized him. His nametag read Leonard McCoy. He knew this man, somehow. "Where..." His voice came out scratchy, unfit for use. McCoy said something to a passing nurse, who soon returned with a cup of water. He helped Pike drink it. The gesture struck Pike as exceedingly caring. Voice still weak, Pike tried again, "Where's Kirk?"

"Taking care of some business. For now, you need to rest. Even with all of my equipment, it'll take a few days for you to reach a functional level, and at least a month to return to your prior strength."

"I won't be able to rest until I know Jim's ok," Pike insisted.

The doctor raised a brow, but nonetheless gave in, "He's trying to figure out what happened on Tantalus VII. He's not onboard right now, but I'm sure he'll be happy to fill you in once he gets back. Shouldn't be more than–" McCoy cut off, a sharp gasp drawing his and Pike's attention to the dark-haired man.

Harrison? His breathing was labored, face screwed up in pain. He threw a hand over his mouth, looking on the verge of throwing up.

“Khan,” McCoy was saying, giving the man a different name. This one was unfamiliar. Or maybe it wasn't. Had Marcus said it before?

The man, newly dubbed Khan, fumbled for his communicator. His hands shook. Pike officially had no clue what was happening. If this man was ill, perhaps he shouldn't be standing around. A sickbay bed might do him some good.

After punching a number into the communicator, Khan said into it, "What happened?" A pause. He must have not gotten an answer, because he ground out, “ _What. Happened_.” His eyes flashed. “My crew?” Whatever the response was, it didn't reassure him. He snapped the communicator shut. “Doctor, we're going down. _Now_.”

“Alright, alright, let me gather my supplies.”

Pike closed his eyes. Tried not to think about all of the weird things going on. It wasn't like he could help, anyway. He might as well save his energy for when he could be of use.

~

It seemed they needed him faster than he had expected. He had been enjoying his first real bed in... he didn't know how long, when the door to the quarters they'd given him was opened. Spock looked in. “Mr. Pike. Are you in decent enough health to attend a private meeting?”

Pike offered a weak nod. “I'll need help getting there.”

The Vulcan helped Pike up, guiding him through the halls. At this point, Pike was still too weak to walk on his own. Even a cane wouldn't be enough. He would probably need a wheelchair, just as he had after Nero took him hostage.

They entered a medium-sized room, with a small meeting table. Pike noted that Novakovich already sat fidgeting in one of the chairs. Spock helped Pike into a nearby chair, before taking his own seat.

“We currently have a difficult situation,” said Spock. “Pike, are you aware of who Doctor Tristan Adams is, and his recent behavior?”

“Yes. He was in charge of the penal colony. I think... I think he's working with Marcus.” Worked with, if Marcus was dead.

“Kirk has apprehended Adams and had him jailed at the penal colony, but he recently made an escape attempt. It is our belief that he contacted the nearby Starbase and informed them of a number of concerns related to the captain,” said Spock.

“What concerns?” Pike asked. He still felt like he was going to pass out at any moment, but he had waited so long to learn of Kirk's fate. He wasn't going to let his exhaustion deprive him of this.

Carefully, Spock said, “Kirk experienced temporary death, after which the blood of augment Khan Noonien Singh was used to return him to life. We believe a similar process was used to restore your own life.”

_Khan_. The man Pike had seen in sickbay. “Did Kirk suffer from brain damage?”

“According to our ship doctor, his brain function was undisturbed. However, when we took Khan aboard as part of a rehabilitation program, a series of events led to their continued sharing of blood. They have shown clear signs of having developed a biochemical bond. As we failed to report this, Kirk is being threatened with a ten year sentence at a penal colony. However, as we have recently discovered atrocities that they wish to conceal, they are willing to negotiate with the captain.”

“You have to take this to trial,” said Pike.

“It is more complex than that. They also have Khan's crew, who were over-represented in those Adams had harmed. Kirk wishes to negotiate the freedom of Khan's crew, which we were told could not be accomplished if we pushed for a trial. I would insist we push forward anyway, as this level of corruption should not be allowed, but Khan might do something that would warrant his return to his cryotube, and Kirk would surely suffer.”

This image of Spock- willing to forgo official rules for Kirk's sake- didn't fit with Pike's memory of him. He remembered a first officer that had reported that his captain had broken the Prime Directive, and hadn't been able to grasp why Kirk would lie on his report. It was as if Pike had died and woken up in an alternate universe, where nothing made sense.

“In addition,” Spock continued, “Commodore Penny of Starbase 192 has been informed that you are alive. She is arranging for your transportation to Earth, where you will be returned to your position of Admiral after being cleared for duty.”

“ _What_?” It was the first time Novakovich had spoken since Pike had come in, the man's brown eyes wide with horror.  “You can't just trust them to shuttle him safely back to Earth. If they don't kill him, they'll kidnap him all over again.”

“That is a hefty assertion,” said Spock. “What is your reasoning?”

“You said Adams contacted Commodore Penny. Why would he contact her, why would she _listen_ to him, if they weren't working together?”

“While I can see the logical leaps, they remain leaps,” said Spock. “It has not been confirmed that it was Adams who contacted the Commodore. In addition, what would we do with Mr. Pike, if not entrust him to Starfleet?”

Pike felt painfully omitted from the choice of his fate.

Novakovich said, “I- I don't know. Smike” _(Pike wondered who this new name belonged to)_ “wants me to take Pike to him, but I don't know how we could manage that, now that the commodore knows Pike's alive. I don't usually make the plans, I just help carry them out. If I could speak to Captain Kirk, maybe I could come up with a better plan.”

“As I have explained, the Captain is otherwise occupied at the Starbase,” said Spock.

Novakovich shut his eyes, silent for a long moment. Then, he let out a slow breath. “Alright. What about Khan? Can I talk to him?”

Pike was eager to talk to the man, himself. This mysterious person that could bring the dead to life with his blood, and was, apparently, bonded to Kirk. He hadn't gleaned much from his few minutes of interaction in sickbay

Spock sent a quick request through the wall interface, speaking to someone. He returned to his seat, and after a few awkward minutes of silence, Khan entered the room.

“Khan,” Spock greeted. “Take a seat. Mr. Novakovich has stated a desire to speak to you.”

Khan shot a withering glare at Novakovich, sitting across from him and beside Spock. Voice threatening, he said, “What do you want?”

Novakovich cowered. “I- I don't think we should let Pike be sent to Earth. It's not safe for him.”

“And you need to tell me this? I am little more than a _prisoner_ on this ship. I don't make decisions.”

Pike would give Kirk's bond partner (mate? Boyfriend?) credit for fastest time in turning someone into a ball of fear. Novakovich was visibly terrified, trying to blend in with his chair.

“I know that. But I need a solution, and you're... very intelligent.”

Pike glanced at Khan. He didn't seem to find this compliment strange, not reacting in the slightest.

Novakovich continued, “If Pike's willing, I want to take him back to Smike. He'll be safe there, and he can help us move our plans forward. But the commodore already knows he's alive, so I don't know how we can get away with it. Or how I could sneak away with him without anyone noticing.”

“Ah, yes. Your plan of raising peaceful augment embryos and integrating them into this accepting, modern day society... How could I forget?”

“We've already located the genes that cause aggression and theorized how to safely alter them,” Novakovich defended. When Khan didn't respond, Novakovich said, “We both know Kirk cares about Pike, and you love Kirk-”

“I do not _love_ him,” Khan cut in, sharply. Pike had heard that same defensive tone many tones before, and knew it for the lie it was. “He is mine, and I... am his. There's a difference. And I won't allow anyone, especially _you_ , to use that to control me.”

Pike found these statements intriguing. Why deny he's in love with Kirk, when they're bonded? And he couldn't help but wonder how Khan got along with forever-hoping, nothing's-impossible, ball-of-energy Kirk.

Novakovich held his hands up before himself, as if that would protect him from Khan's rage. “I just meant Kirk would be happier if Pike was still alive. I'm not trying to manipulate or control you. I need your help figuring out how to keep Pike safe.”

Khan didn't relax, but his tone was less biting when he answered. “If he's dead, he'll be very easy to transfer. No one will question someone bringing a dead relative home, and they are unlikely to check the body.”

“My goal is to keep him _alive._ ”

“Yes. And I'm sure McCoy could create something capable of giving him the appearance of death until you can reach safe territory.” Finally, Khan turned his attention to Pike. “What do you prefer? I'm sure you tire of others deciding your fate.”

Pike really did. But he wasn't exactly in a state of mind to make big decisions and formulate plans at the moment. “Will I be able to help fix Starfleet if I go with him?”

“Your chances are higher, considering you're more likely be alive.”

Pike looked at Spock when he gave his final answer. “Then I'll go with Novakovich.”  

 


End file.
